


Nine Syllables

by Alphinss



Series: Self Inflicted Suffering; Writing Challange [10]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Dark Will Graham, Empathy, First Meetings, M/M, Murder Husbands, Murderers, Pre-Slash, Psychoanalysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 19:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17668499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphinss/pseuds/Alphinss
Summary: Will can see what Hannibal is the second that he speaks. 7 words. That’s all he needs.





	Nine Syllables

“Do you often have trouble with taste?”

That was all that it took. nine syllables in an accent that very nearly purred from twisted lips. That was all that Will needed. Transparent. Now thats all that he was. The man more two dimensional than three. Oh. Oh there he was. Right there.

He was…well…Beautiful.

Will had to take a second to remember to breath. He looked toward the man who wasn't a man. A monster. A more fitting word. Twisted darkness and blood coated teeth. Will stared. He couldn’t speak.

The man turned. In all his glory. Doctor Hannibal Lecter. His eyes met Will’s in an instant. And there. There he was. Reflected perfectly back in pools of pale blue. In a shocking red and beautiful bold black. He could see himself just as Will could see him.

“I imagine that you often find yourself with thoughts far from the exquisite.”

The lips curled in a look. Come out and Play. It screamed at Will with a confidence that was so profound that it radiated from his very being. And yes. Will did want to play. He really did.

“You could say that my thoughts are less than tasty.” Will’s voice was smooth even as his thoughts were in jubilant turmoil.

With a strength he did not know he had, Will managed to draw his eyes from Hannibal Lecter’s own. The glasses had covered his obsessive gaze. But as the man moved closer, Uncle Jack would not be fooled. The game would be no fun if it was over so soon.

“As you could say about mine.”

The man’s hands were in his pockets as he walked forward. A casual motion. Reassurance. Nothing more. A person suit that was so well crafted. Hannibal Lecter was not a man to put hands in pockets. Will was sure the monster was screaming on the inside. But he kept the mask so perfectly in place. A monster with manners. How quaint. 

“There are no effective barriers.” Hannibal was sizing Will up, looking at his position, drinking him in. Oh he was so perfect. This beautiful monster.

Will wondered his beginnings. They were sure to be covered in blood. Will could only imagining it. Dripping from pale flesh. The drops like rubies. Turning black in the moonlight.

“I’ve always found a fort is rather solid.” Will was battling his way through a game where he knew only half the rules. He was in a pool of water, straining up to his neck and he didn’t know how to swim. His heart was racing. He hadn’t had this much fun in years.

“Yet associations still leap to the surface. Uncontrollable, really.”

Will had to stop the shiver of anticipation. He grasped at his coffee mug, knuckles whitening. He couldn’t. Oh but he wanted to. Hannibal Lecter. What a perfect specimen.

“Forts can be faster.”

Hannibal Lecter sat. His own coffee was soon in his hand.

Uncle Jack wasn’t looking. He couldn’t see the birth so something dark and twisted mere meters behind him. Their eyes met once again. Blood, fire, rebirth.

“Not fond of eye contact” A smirk on stretched lips “Are you?”

“Eyes are distracting” Will tried to keep his tone even, his words smooth. But the monster was rearing its head before him. Deep black horns, ready to pierce through flesh. Teeth to rip and…oh, there it was. A tongue to taste. How delicious.

“You never know what you might see.” Will could hear the tattoo on his ribs. Blood thrumming. A waterfall of red.

Would Hannibal Lecter want to taste him? Would Will be able to stop it? Would he want to?

“Makes it hard to focus.” A forced tone of fake frustration. “when all you can think are the thoughts of those around you.” A scowl for the public. Jack was there after all. They couldn’t let their audience down.

Hannibal’s huffed laugh was worth the facade. The crinkle of his eyes and the tilt of his head. Will wanted to rip him apart. Peel off the person suit piece by piece. Watch as the blood pooled and he could find the truth of the killer underneath.

“So yes. I try to avoid eye contact where possible.” To anyone else it was disregard and derision. To Hannibal Lecter it was an open invitation.

Will wanted out. He wanted to be out of here as fast as he could. He had a game to play. Boundaries to test. A person suit to mangle beyond recognition.

“Jack” The man standing in their way.

“Yes” the man almost barked in response. How pavlovian. But at least the end was in sight.

Yet, with a quick stab, Hannibal interrupted the proceedings. It seemed he was one to keep adding rules halfway through. Twisting the game to his own advantage. Making it so that Will could not win. No. All he wanted was to see Will dance.

“I imagine that anything you see will touch every part of your mind. Maybe even changing it.” The man’s face was blank. The perfect psychiatrists smile winking at him.

“You take on a new face and your thoughts become their’s. It haunts you. Your morality shattered. No place for the things you love. The memories that are not your own, haunting your dreams.”

Oh, the perfect play. Will just needed to act his part.

“Who’s profile are you working on.” Angry indignation. It was no way near a question.

Turning to Jack. The betrayal reflected back at the man who had forced his attendance.

“Who’s profile is he working on!” Will was demanding.

Yet, it was Hannibal that answered. The man wrenched back control. Jack gave it without a blink. A display of power. A cuckoo happily getting fat, kicking the other chicks from the nest. The mother and father only catering to its commands. Not even aware that the baby was not their own.

“I’m sorry Will.” The insincere words danced from crooked lips. Will wanted to see them bleed. “Observation is what I do. I cannot turn it off. Just as you cannot shut of your own abilities.”

A lie. Blatant. Astounding. Will puffed up. A peacock in fake indignation.

“Do not psychoanalyse me. You will not like me when I’m psychoanalysed.”

“Will” Jack’s interruption was laughable. Not when Hannibal had beat the man to submission without him even noticing.

“Now, If you’ll excuse me. I have to go and give a lecture.”

Will turned away. Walking out. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode. He wondered what the blood would look like. Hannibal would like the patterns.


End file.
